


A Gambler's One Regret

by PK_Cyanic



Series: DnD Character Backstories [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27492235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PK_Cyanic/pseuds/PK_Cyanic
Summary: WARNING: Depiction of character death.Hanen Lassibow is a career gambler who swindles her players for profit, resorting to any trick she can manage. Confident in her ability to manipulate the odds, she believes that nothing is beyond her control. When something unexpected happens, however, it leaves her spiraling into despair.
Series: DnD Character Backstories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009077





	A Gambler's One Regret

My name is Hanen Lassibow, and I’m a gambler.

That means that I put my money on the line to win big, and then put those winnings on the line to win bigger. With the stakes being so high, usually because I’m the one to suggest them, one loss could easily lead to me living on the streets, begging for change. It’s a career choice not for the faint of heart, to be sure. So, what made me so confident in my income that I chose to live this life, rather than do something normal like work at a bar or tend to some horses? If you thought about it, the answer would be pretty obvious, but I’ll give you a hint.

See, there are two types of people I come across in my line of work. There are those who believe in the guiding hand of Lady Luck, and place their hopes and dreams on her whims, and then there are those who are rational. Realistically, no one sane would risk even a few copper pieces on chance alone, so those sane people take advantage of the less reasonable. Sometimes we will use dice that have been proven to work in our favor, other times we will magically uncover the exact card we need to pull a royal flush. No matter the method, you can count on the fact that professional gamblers like myself take any precaution necessary to minimize the presence of “randomness” in our games. 

So, when I entered the tavern I usually make my earnings at and noticed someone cheering with glee after having miraculously won three games of poker in a row, I instantly spotted my next target. He wore clothes becoming of a commoner, although there were a few tears and stains along his sleeves and knees. He held around fifteen gold pieces in his hand as he jumped up and down, his smile beaming with joy. To him, this was shaping up to be the best night of his life.

To me, it was shaping up to be another paycheck.

Now, stealing money from someone of questionable financial security has never been something I sought out to do, but it also wasn’t something I swore myself off from doing. If I happened to see a poor man willing to gamble what remained of his life savings, I figured that he knew the risks going in and would be prepared to lose everything he had in an instant. That thought was what allowed me to remove myself from feeling any semblance of responsibility for the lives I know I crushed throughout my many months of gambling. That night, too, was no different. Seeing the poor man’s expression grow more distraught as the rounds went by did not phase me for a second. After all, I had seen this exact emotional downfall play out so many times that I had grown numb to it. When he walked out the door, tears staining his jacket, I was preoccupied with counting the pieces of gold I had now accrued. Fifteen shiny pieces, just as many as he had won earlier, had so quickly transferred possession to me. 

The next day, the yellow chunks still jingling in my pockets, I came across a small crowd gathered outside the front of the tavern. I approached someone on the outskirts of the mob and asked what had happened, and was met with a sharp glance and the shuffling of people away from me. My confusion about the situation quickly turned to shock as I realized what the commotion was about; near the entrance of the tavern lied the corpse of the man I had swindled not ten hours earlier. His chest was punctured several times, pools of red forming on his shirt and on the floor. The dagger responsible for his death was still in his hand, its rusted blade marked with patches of blood. 

For those few seconds, I lost myself. I mean, surely his death wasn’t my fault. It’s just a random event that happened to occur soon after my game with him. That doesn’t mean anything at all. It could easily just be a coincidence. Why should I feel responsible for his death? Really, he should have known better than to risk what little gold he managed to acquire on gambling. I do this for a living, I can’t afford to feel responsibility for him. And I shouldn’t, because it’s not my fault…

My mind was swirling with thoughts and rationalizations, and between all of the reassurances and doubts I found myself barely hanging onto the wall, short of breath and barely standing. As I tried to recollect myself, I took another look at his lifeless body. His eyes were swollen, and from where I stood, I could even make out dried tears along his cheek and running down his chin. 

At that moment, I hurried home.

I completely lost control of my breathing. 

I buried myself in my blankets and pillows, trying to remove myself as best I could from reality. No matter how much I screamed, cried, or begged, his image continued to haunt my thoughts. 

Never again. Never again will I allow myself to experience something like that. The turmoil of responsibility is one that I’ve successfully evaded for months now, and after one slip-up I found myself on the brink of despair. From here on out, no more mistakes. A true gambler removes the concept of consequence from their vocabulary, and I have to be no different. I won’t make the mistake of letting my emotions lead me towards guilt again.


End file.
